Gosh, it’s extremely cold in this jacket, she thought. She was standing at the platform, waiting for the tram number eight. She wasn’t sure if there was about to arrive either that cutting-edge one or an old, about-to-die „bimba”[1] . She was not  sure about anything that day.


Time was passing second by second, trams number five and seven have already had their turn to stop and let sleepy workers of nearby offices get out of the vehicle directly into the chilly freshness of the  morning. Apart from workers, at the platform  there was also a  small crowd of high school students, breaking the silence of cold air with their laughter, and some single human beings who, God knows why, were getting out of tram so early in the morning. In her mind she classified herself to the last group. She was swriling around, waiting for a tram number eight, hestitating from time to time if direct her body towards a nearest zebra crossing or only towards trams’ schedule. Cold air was blowing into pedestrians’ eyes; those more fortunate used collars of their coats to prevent paralyzing temperature  reaching their skin. She, wearing only a light raincoat, did not even dream that weather would treat her slightly better . “It’s extremely cold in this jacket”, she thought.

Suddenly, tram tracks started to make that typical, sarcastic noises. “Ohhh, old one”, it occured to her and she turned her body towards the platform. The vehicle started to get empty: workers, students and single human beings got out of the tram number eight, in order to make space for those who were so desperately waiting to enter: her and two mid-fifites women who, if not that blond dyed hair,  could be taken for mid-forties. She entered, took a seat and felt a huge relief when she found a heater under her chair. Tram moved.  Her eyesight remained for few seconds more on the poster. „Whatever you do, just move forward”, said the white title. „That’s …”, she wanted to comment it loudlessy but she felt a pocket in her bag that started to vibrate. Having taken the phone call, she already regretted it. She was supposed to come back, everybody was waiting for her, no big deal happened, so there was no space for discussion. However, she knew it better than anything else, she couldn’t go back as it would mean to take a step back. “Just move forward”, she recalled the title of the poster. Hiding  the phone in the pocket, her fingers recognized a shape of caramel sweet she was particularly found of. She unwrapped it. Sweetness started to melt on her tongue, it gave her a shot of energy. The tram was hustling on the curve, then another tram stop became visible.  Her body moved suddenly and was about to lose stability as the vehicle started to brake,  but instead of strenghtening the grasp , she reached her pocket to take out mobile phone. The door got open, blow of chilly air entered the tram. „I will be back”, she started to type, „some day”.

[1] Polish expression for tram, used in Poznań city